


Anthology of Raven Escapades

by dawnIsGone



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, even if i wrote every possible one shot, i wouldn't know what to tag this with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnIsGone/pseuds/dawnIsGone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all want everyone to be happy and cute together</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anthology of Raven Escapades

Swan was a light sleeper, awake at even the drop of a pin. That is, unless he slept with Skov.

Skov loved waking to soft morning glow through the curtains, cocooned securely in Swan's arms, cool cheek in the warm hollow of Swan's neck, legs tangled and sheets askew.

No matter how many times he awoke like this, Skov's heart still sped against Swan's, hammering. His face still grew ever warmer, limbs pulsed with excitement.

He smiled into Swan's chest.

Oh, how Skov used to think this was so awkwardly wrong. His own chapped lips too close to Swan's solid jawline, Swan's sculpted lips, Swan's godly anything; his own inexperience too green to please Swan, too apparent to slow Skov's whines and moans and breath; his own body, though lean and supple, did not feel big enough for Swan's arms, for him to hold. Skov used to feel so small.

Skov sighed, feeling silly.

It was all still wrong, but wrong because they were never close enough; because no amount of experience could sate the want between them; because their hearts held too much to simply hold in their arms.

Skov adjusted himself to get a better look at Swan's face. Swan was one of those people, the kind whose face you could stare at for hours on end, but still not quite know what they looked like when you looked away. The image in mind would be distorted somewhat, like a blurry puzzle with a missing piece. So Skov preferred to not look away at all.

"Swan," he whispered. "Swan."

Swan shifted, groaning softly.

Skov's stomach did a 360.

Swan opened his eyes, and—as always—Skov's breath hitched. Eyes like Swan's weren't just _pretty_ , they had Skov entranced. Deep, rich olive green, accented with golden flecks brought out by golden piercings. Effortlessly, a smile that reached those eyes bloomed on Swan's lips.

Skov couldn't help but smile back.

Swan exhaled softly and pressed his lips to Skov's forehead, and Skov melted.

Swan was a wondrous creature. An Adonis chiseled from midnight obsidian, dark and dangerous; or Hermes on his winged sandals, swift and gentle; and even a storm-to-be, crackling and powerful, all in one. As Skov kissed him back, he could see the lightning in Swan's eyes, taste the rainclouds on Swan's lips, breath as soft as Zephyr. Skov could never be more content.


End file.
